


Heartbeat

by opalish



Category: Yuri!!! on Ice (Anime)
Genre: Falling In Love, Fluff and Angst, Getting to Know Youuu Getting to Know All About Youuu, Hurt/Comfort, I continue to have too many feelings about Chihokogate, Love, M/M, Mental Health Issues, Team Russia
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-06-11
Updated: 2020-06-11
Packaged: 2021-03-03 18:55:34
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,562
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24640450
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/opalish/pseuds/opalish
Summary: From the start, Actual Human Being Victor doesn't quite mesh with Yuuri's image of him. It's not exactly a rude awakening—Yuuri's always been aware that Victor is, at least theoretically, a great deal more than a jumble of posters and statistics and soundbites.It's just, Yuuri never really expected him to be quite so...Naked.
Relationships: Katsuki Yuuri/Victor Nikiforov, Phichit Chulanont & Katsuki Yuuri
Comments: 55
Kudos: 459





	Heartbeat

**Author's Note:**

> i have been fussing with this sucker for literally years at this point, and after messing with it YET AGAIN this evening, i decided fuck it, have some introspective flangst i guess

Yuuri doesn't think he'll ever forget the way he felt the first time he saw Victor skate. He was twelve years old, astonished and enthralled, and suddenly all he wanted in the world was to feel everything he saw on Victor's face as he danced across the ice—that mix of joy and peace and exhilaration. He was fearless and free, completely untouchable, and Yuuri felt like he'd tumbled into a whole new universe _._

He fell in love with Victor's skating then and there. As the years go by, he also falls in love with the way Victor smiles, the way he walks, with the sheen of his hair and the gleam in his eyes.

He doesn't _know_ Victor, of course, but he reads about him, watches him, longs for him—to be like him, to meet him, to have his attention and his approval. He covers his walls in posters, driven half by inspiration and half by infatuation. He lets himself, ever so tentatively, form a mental picture of who Victor is as a person, not just as a skater and a celebrity.

He's someone confident, lively, charming—everything Yuuri isn't. Beautiful and talented and so incredibly in command of his own body, his own career: choosing his own music, sometimes even commissioning it, and putting together his own choreography before he even reaches his twenties. Victor never hesitates to share credit with his coach, but everyone knows he's his own powerhouse, a veritable god of the sport. He shocks the world again and again, surpasses himself when surpassing his competition becomes a given.

And the further Yuuri goes to meet him, the harder he tries and the higher he reaches, the more untouchable Victor becomes.

* * *

From the start, Actual Human Being Victor doesn't quite mesh with Yuuri's image of him. It's not exactly a rude awakening—Yuuri's always been aware that Victor is, at least theoretically, a great deal more than a jumble of posters and statistics and soundbites.

It's just, Yuuri never really expected him to be quite so...

 _Naked_.

"You always did want to meet him in the flesh," Phichit points out innocently, and Yuuri would ignore him for days just for that, except then Victor asks to _sleep in his_ _bed_ and who else can he whisper-scream at during the dead of night?

"Why are you telling me and not sleeping with him?" Phichit demands, like Yuuri's the weird one for not letting his personal hero and unattainable crush cozy up to him, and Yuuri hangs up on him and refuses to comment on his instagram until he apologizes for asking such a ridiculous question.

Victor barges into his life, unapologetic, all bedroom eyes and bright smiles and _touching_ , full of unrelenting enthusiasm and invasive questions and the incredible, inexplicable belief that Yuuri is worth his time and effort. It's the most terrifying thing Yuuri's ever experienced, and he _knows_ fear.

In the end, Yuuri doesn't actually spend much time trying to reconcile the reality with years of fantasy, too busy dreading the moment Victor realizes he's made a mistake, fretting over the thought that he's the reason Victor won't be getting his sixth consecutive GPF gold. Victor keeps trying to get close, but the closer he gets the quicker he'll realize that Yuuri's...

Of course he doesn't let Victor into his room.

But Yuuri still wants Victor's attention and his faith, wants silver and gold, wants to—wants to retire on his own terms. Not because he's failed, but because he's finally, at long last, managed to succeed. Just once, he wants to feel like he's won.

If he can't compete against Victor again, at least he can compete with him. That has to be enough.

* * *

Victor never entirely stops being _Victor Nikiforov_ to Yuuri.

Yuuri thinks that's probably a good thing, at least for his skating. He wants to prove that Victor's right to believe in him; he wants to prove everyone wrong when they say Russia's Living Legend is wasting his time, that he's just bored and playing around. Victor's a skater, a choreographer, and now he's a coach as well, and Yuuri's not going to be his first failure. Victor has a reputation for perfection, and Yuuri intends to uphold that.

Even if Victor flounders sometimes. Even if he can be petty and unreasonable and forgetful. Even if he believes so strongly in Yuuri's inevitable success that he overlooks what Yuuri needs in order not to fail. Even if he's not actually perfect. 

Victor likes to try new things and he likes being admired and he's bad at showing what he really feels. He panics when people cry, and he wants to be needed but doesn't always know how to handle the pressure of it. He's so used to winning that getting things wrong has become almost an exciting novelty to him, which drives Yuuri crazy, because in his world getting things wrong is failure and failure is _the end of everything_.

Victor's capable of both breathtaking kindness and thoughtless cruelty, energetic childishness and a distant weariness. Sometimes he wakes up in a gray sort of mood that lingers the rest of the day, and he can talk about himself for hours without ever saying anything real or revealing.

He wants to know everything about Yuuri, but sometimes sulks when he discovers something new, like he thinks Yuuri's been deliberately holding out on him. He needs to be surprised the way Yuuri needs the occasional bowl of katsudon, but he resents it when other people disrupt his routines.

"He wears his sunglasses inside," he tells Phichit. _"At_ _night._ "

"And that's...bad?" Phichit hazards.

"And I _still like him_."

"O...kay?"

Yuuri hangs up and goes to find Mari.

"He wears his sunglasses inside," he complains.

"At night. I know," Mari says with a grimace. "At least he has a dog?"

"I think I'd like him even without the dog," Yuuri admits, shamefaced.

"That's pretty bad, Yuuri."

"I _know_."

But Victor's human, after all. He has faults and foibles.

And he's _wonderful_. He's frustrating, and real, and against all odds and common sense, he keeps choosing Yuuri. It takes Yuuri a long time—far too long—to realize that from the start, Victor's been waiting for Yuuri to choose him back.

Victor never entirely stops being _Victor Nikiforov,_ but somehow that becomes the least astonishing thing about him.

* * *

At the Barcelona banquet, Victor tells Yakov about his plan to simultaneously coach and compete.

Yakov isn't impressed. Yakov isn't impressed _very loudly_.

Yuuri thinks Victor wouldn't mind Yakov's rage at all, except Yakov snaps that Victor's being unfair to Yuuri—that he'll ruin Yuuri's season, possibly his career, by half-assing two full-time jobs. Victor's blithe enough about it in reply, but Yuuri catches the glance Victor shoots him, the way his smile stretches a little too wide. Mari once observed it's never a good sign when Victor's teeth shine more brightly than his forehead, and while Yuuri will never actually admit it to anyone but Phichit, she's...not wrong.

It's not like Coach Yakov doesn't have reason to be concerned, of course. Victor's taking on a workload of herculean proportions, and Yuuri's going to have to step up his own training for Nationals and Worlds, keep himself in top condition even when he doesn't have Victor's full attention and focus. And Yuuri suspects Yakov's mostly yelling about Victor being unfair to Yuuri because he knows Victor won't listen to a word he says about Yuuri being unfair to Victor.

But Yuuri, for maybe the first time in his life, has faith. Victor hasn't let his skating skills go over the past few months, even if he's been enjoying himself in Japan, and Yuuri's coming off a world record. It'll be tough, he doesn't doubt that, but he thinks they can actually do this. They'll find a way, if only to keep Yurio from murdering them both.

He tells Victor as much, hours later, when Victor's mostly sober again and Yakov's nowhere to be found. When they're together and alone in their hotel room, the radio playing softly, neither of them quite ready to stop dancing.

"And you don't think I'm selfish?" Victor asks teasingly, but Yuuri can't help but answer seriously.

"So what if you are?"

Victor looks a little startled at that, his smile faltering for a moment. They fall out of time with the music, but Yuuri only notices distantly, much more focused on Victor.

"I'm selfish too," Yuuri says, a little annoyed. "I want everything from you, all the time. I like that you want to be selfish with me."

"I suppose selfishness is becoming a part of my image these days," Victor allows, lightly, and for some reason that just irritates Yuuri more.

"I don't care about your image," he says a little waspishly.

Victor laughs, but he looks and sounds a bit...odd. Yuuri can't quite read him, can't quite parse his tone when he says, "Oh? Then Mari was lying about those posters?"

Yuuri freezes. Did he just... Well. Yuuri's about to be very, very busy, but he thinks he can still fit _ending his_ _sister_ onto his to-do list.

Victor softens a little in the face of Yuuri's obvious embarrassment, eyes going warm and fond. "I don't mind, Yuuri," he says, tenderly enough that Yuuri almost trips over his own feet, even though at this point they're mostly just swaying in place. Minako can _never_ know. "It's very flattering."

"But that's what I'm saying," Yuuri says quietly, going entirely still. "Victor, I've been in love with your skating and the way you look and the things you say for years, but I wasn't in love with _you_. Not until I got to know you. I've always thought you were the most beautiful person in the world, and I think that more than ever, but it doesn't have anything to do with the way you look or how many medals you've won. Not anymore. It's not about your image, it's about who you are."

Victor's lips part, like he wants to say something but can't come up with the words. But that's alright with Yuuri—he'd thought, maybe stupidly, that they'd talked through his hero worship that day on the beach. If it's bothering Victor now, if it's more of a problem for him now that they're together, then he needs to listen for a moment.

Yuuri bites his lip, then slides a hand around the nape of Victor's neck, tugging him forward and down so he can brush his lips against Victor's temple. "You have a beautiful mind, full of beautiful thoughts," Yuuri says determinedly, and presses his other hand against Victor's chest. "And a beautiful heart full of beautiful feelings. That's what matters to me."

The words feel awkward to him, simultaneously far too much and not enough, but he doesn't want this to fester, doesn't want Victor to doubt, doesn't want him to ever go back to putting on some kind of act for him. Strangely, though, Yuuri feels almost calm—not humiliated by his fumbling attempts at telling Victor how he feels, not dangerously vulnerable or afraid he's being too forward.

Victor closes his eyes, then tilts his head just a bit, pressing their foreheads together. "You might be giving me a little too much credit," he says, huffing out a quiet laugh. "I'm not so perfect." It sounds like a confession rather than a protest, and Yuuri pulls back a little in surprise.

"I know that," he says, puzzled, because Victor can't actually think anyone who's lived with him for any length of time might mistake him for _perfect_. "I don't mind. Be as selfish or as forgetful as you want; shave all your hair off or grow a mustache—none of it will change the way I see you." He survived Victor's infamous Post-Olympic Haircut, after all, and if he lived through that, he can live through anything.

He's not entirely sure why Victor laughs until there are tears in his eyes, but he doesn't mind holding him through it, either.

* * *

Yuuri expects the move to St Petersburg to be difficult, and it is.

Going to Detroit was scarier, but it's harder to leave his family this time. He's always known they support his choices, his career, but he's never truly felt it until this last year. Living with them, training with Victor, being so determined to get the absolute most out of his final season...

It's strange, how easy it was to stay away for five years, and how difficult it is to leave again after less than one.

* * *

"What's wrong with him?" Georgi asks, eyebrows raised, as Victor skates to the far end of the rink, shoulders tense and his eyes tired.

Yuuri doesn't really know. He's seen Victor like this before, back in Hasetsu, and he's always been hesitant about pushing Victor to open up about his troubles--not because he doesn't care, but because Victor sometimes strikes him as peculiarly brittle, and Yuuri can be clumsy with fragile things.

Yesterday, Victor was happy--thriving under the pressure of both coaching Yuuri and completing his comeback at Worlds, excited about making plans to return to Hasetsu for part of the off-season, cheerfully ignoring Yakov's shouted instructions, teaming up with Mila to torment Yurio. They stayed awake a little too long, perhaps, talking about hosting a second Onsen on Ice, but Victor was smiling when he finally fell asleep.

Now...

"He's having a bad day," Yuuri shrugs, uncomfortable, because there's something in Georgi's gaze that strikes him as--not accusing, precisely, but _knowing_. What he thinks he knows, though, Yuuri can't begin to say.

Georgi snorts. "Victor Nikiforov doesn't have bad days," he says dismissively, and Yuuri's spine stiffens.

What's that supposed to mean?

Georgi sighs to himself, then, and adds, "Well, I suppose love is never easy, not even for him." He pats Yuuri on the shoulder and launches himself back into the center of the rink, Yakov grumbling at him to get his step sequence right this time.

Yuuri frowns down at the ice, overwhelmed by...he's not even sure what it is he's feeling. He can't even focus on Georgi's theory that Victor's having trouble with their relationship, and that's the sort of thing his brain usually latches onto and doesn't let go of for _weeks_. Or, if he's being totally honest, sometimes _years_.

Victor Nikiforov doesn't have bad days?

It sounds like the sort of thing Yuuri might've said to Phichit back in Detroit, after failing on a jump or messing up a spin. The sort of thing fans might say, admiring, or Victor's competition might grumble in envy. But Georgi--Georgi practically grew up with Victor. They've been rinkmates for nearly as long as they've been skaters, and Georgi isn't a bad guy. From what Yuuri's seen, he's not petty about Victor's successes, and he doesn't lack confidence in his own skills.

So why...?

He's angry. Yuuri realizes it almost distantly, like there's something between him and his own emotions--but he's _mad_. Victor's allowed to have bad days. He's allowed to fall down sometimes, to be sad and imperfect and tired.

Yuuri's not angry with Georgi--or at least, that's not all of it. Georgi's not the only one who acts like Victor's somehow above it all, beyond the normal human range of feeling.

He doesn't know Victor perfectly, of course. He's not sure he ever will, not when Victor keeps some things so entirely, quietly his own. But he knows what Victor's smile looks like when it's hiding irritation or hurt or anger; he knows what Victor sounds like when he's only pretending to be on top of the world. He knows how Victor holds himself after a long day of acting like he's full of life and energy when all he's truly feeling is empty.

And Victor Nikiforov doesn't have bad days?

Victor smiles at him when they go to bed that night, and it's not fake but Yuuri can almost feel the effort he puts into it. Yuuri's starting to feel exhausted _for_ him, and stamina or not, he really doesn't have that much energy to spare.

"You don't need to smile."

Victor stares at him, surprised, and Yuuri can't really take it anymore. He's not good at emotions, his own or others', but he--he can't help if he doesn't at least try. He sits back up, twisting to face Victor, and stares down at him with a small frown. "Georgi asked if you were okay, earlier. I told him you were having a bad day, and he said...he said you don't have bad days. But that's not--you don't--if you're unhappy, then be unhappy." Yuuri grimaces, knowing as the words come out that they're all wrong, jumbled and incoherent. Victor looks _more_ tense, not less, which is the opposite of what he's going for. "That's not...I mean. Victor, if you don't want to smile, then don't. Not with me."

He wants to tell Victor other things--that the ice is the only place he needs to perform, that the rest of the world can take care of itself. That even if Victor decides one day that he doesn't want to perform at all, that he wants to skate out the alphabet or just spend an FS doing compulsory figures, Yuuri will still find it breathtaking.

But sometimes he thinks Victor's need to be something other than himself isn't just for the crowds, isn't just for _optics_. He's occasionally found himself wondering if maybe some part of Victor needs it for himself--needs the ability to fake a smile, fake a laugh, fake a personality. Yuuri doesn't understand it, but that doesn't make it unimportant.

Victor's confusion fades, leaving an almost unnerving watchfulness in its place. He lifts a hand and brushes the back of his fingers along Yuuri's jaw, and says, very quietly, "You're...you've only been here for two weeks, Yuuri. I can't--I won't--"

_Oh.  
_

"Victor, all I need from you is you," Yuuri tells him intently, sliding his own hand over Victor's, keeping it against his face. He can feel Victor's ring against his skin, hard and cool and still so new, and he wonders if he'll ever get used to it--the sight of it, the way it matches his own. "You don't need to _be_ anything for me. Not when we're off the ice, anyway. I'm okay."

"You left your home for me," Victor persists, jaw set stubbornly. Yuuri thinks about pointing out that Victor did, too, coming to Hasetsu just because of a drunken request and a leaked video, but he suspects that will just lead to quibbling about semantics.

"You make it sound like some big sacrifice," Yuuri says instead, turning his head into Victor's hand until he can press a quick, dry kiss to his knuckles. "I left Hasetsu for me, and I didn't leave home at all."

Victor swallows, stroking his thumb along Yuuri's cheekbone, and then sighs. “I used to be better at this,” he says quietly, frustration lacing his words. “At being...Victor Nikiforov, I suppose. It's not that I didn't have bad days; it's that...for a while, I never really had _good_ ones. Everything was just...as it was. And I could smile and still be fine.”

That doesn't sound fine to Yuuri at all. He's never really been able to hide when he's not okay, and for the first time he thinks that might not be such a bad thing.

“But that's different now?” he asks, hesitant.

“I've been happy,” Victor says simply. “I _am_ happy. So whenever I’m not, when I'm... It's difficult to remember how to handle being...”

Victor's an eloquent man, rarely at a loss for something to say; it's strange for Yuuri, watching him struggle to find the right words. 

In the end, Victor just shakes his head and says, “It's better now. I have bad days, not bad years. And I'll get better at—”

“No,” Yuuri interrupts sharply, alarmed, his hand tightening around Victor's. Victor blinks at him, eyebrows raised. “Victor, you don't—I told you it's okay to be unhappy. I know you have times when you feel...empty. Or at least that's how it seems. You can be empty and not pretend you feel full.” He winces, acutely aware that he sounds ridiculous. And Victor...Victor looks confused, perhaps, and terribly worn, and not particularly reassured.

“It sounds exhausting,” Yuuri tries again. “And painful. I don't—I know you like to be someone for your fans, but with me, if you're tired, you can just be tired.”

Victor closes his eyes, and his voice is tight as he says, “It's not that easy.”

“I know,” Yuuri agrees, a bit helplessly. People have said similar things to him, before, and he's always resented it, felt trapped or attacked or just plain skeptical. He's not sure whether it's funny or kind of sad that he's only now realizing at least some of them must've known what they were talking about, must've been sincere. “But—I won't think less of you if you're not always fine. I'm here because I want to be with _you_ , not your smile.” Especially, he doesn't say, not _that_ smile, all gleaming and photogenic and forced.

Victor frowns and doesn't meet his eyes, and Yuuri honestly has no idea whether that's progress or not.

Yuuri lets go of his hand, but only so he can lie back down, stretch out beside Victor and be there with him, on his level. "You can be tired when you're with me," Yuuri repeats, staring up at the ceiling, and he wishes he could make his voice soft the way Victor does, sometimes, when Yuuri's the one having a bad day. "Or empty or sad, or anything else." He pauses and adds, "And if that's too much, if you need to be alone for a while, you can be that, too."

Victor pulls him closer, wraps his arms around Yuuri and presses his forehead to Yuuri's shoulder.

"No," he breathes. "Not alone."

* * *

Victor knows he's being beyond unreasonable, asking Yuuri to strip before he climbs up the castle. He's jealous and insecure, half-drunk and naked on top of a town landmark, blindsided by the realization that he still doesn't know every detail of Yuuri's life. The fact that Yuuri’s willing to climb up to him at all instead of insisting Victor come down and get dressed...that already means a lot. It should be enough.

But Victor...well, maybe it's stupid pride, but it stings to think about climbing down, putting his clothes back on, pretending he's not more than a little embarrassed. Even if Yuuri's at his side the whole time. He can pull it off, of course—he's _Victor Nikiforov_ —but still...

Yuuri stares up at him for a long moment, glasses flashing in the sunlight, and then nods to himself and starts taking off his own clothes.

Victor watches him breathlessly, stares as Yuuri shrugs off Yurio's shrieking and ignores Phichit and Chris' teasing. A few minutes ago, Yuuri—who decided on his profession after watching Victor skate on TV, who has a collection of posters featuring Victor looking cool, calm, collected, charming—gazed up at him, saw Victor naked and hungover and a total mess, and shouted that he could search the whole world and never find anyone better. And now Yuuri—anxious, awkward Yuuri—is willing to get naked and scale a town landmark in front of half their colleagues and friends.

For the first time since Barcelona, Victor really wants to cry. Because Yuuri's climbing the castle towards him, bare as the day he was born, all so Victor can feel a little less foolish and alone. Distantly, he hears Yurio shouting at them, Phichit gleefully announcing that they're getting remarried, Chris whistling and saying something deeply inappropriate about Yuuri's admittedly excellent ass, and that—that's good, too.

Because Victor's a disaster right now, all his imperfections on display, but all their friends seem to see are a couple of men in love.

* * *

He doesn't know why. It's just a day like any other—a day that started with Yuuri's adorable sleepy grumbles, with decent weather and his normal schedule—but something dark and heavy clings to Victor through it all. He feels distant from the world, like there's a thick pane of glass between him and everyone else.

At lunch, Yuuri leans against his side and says, “You can talk to me about it. If you want.”

He's watching the rest of the world through a window; he's stranded at an altitude no one else can reach.

But Yuuri, Yuuri climbed a castle to get to him, once. Yuuri pulled him into a dance and dipped him back and invited him home and _into his life_ , all in one whirlwind night. Yuuri made him cry in a hotel the day after he put a gold ring on his finger, all because he thought he was doing the right thing for Victor.

So Victor doesn't tell him he's fine. He doesn't say anything at all.

He lets his weight fall onto Yuuri, and he presses his cheek against Yuuri's temple, and he nods.

* * *

_Katsuki is drunk. Victor's been keeping half an eye on him since he showed up at the banquet, defeated and dispirited, and the number of empty champagne flutes near Katsuki seems to multiply every time he glances over._

_Eventually, Katsuki stops drinking—but only because he's staggering over to Victor, eyes glazed and his tie undone. Victor readies himself for...well, he's not entirely sure, but it'll probably be unpleasant._

_Yuri groans in disgust and mutters, “Why is he even here? What a loser.”_

_Victor doesn't shush him, but only because he doesn't want to draw attention to the scene. Banquets have a purpose, after all, and they shouldn't do anything to alienate their sponsors. Yuri in particular needs to be careful, if he's really serious about making his senior debut next season. Banquets are about networking, not about having fun or getting in fights; the point is to be charming and personable and never, ever let on that you want to scream and throw yourself out the nearest window just to escape the tedium._

_Victor pastes on a friendly smile for Katsuki, and watches him with very real concern. Even if he and Yuri escape the situation unscathed, he can't imagine this ending well for Katsuki._

_But he just peers at them blearily, then jabs a finger at Victor and says, “You look bored.”_

_Victor blinks, startled. What...?  
_

_“It's a party, you shouldn't be bored,” Katsuki insists, and Victor is surprised to find himself holding back a laugh. “We should have a dance off! Little Yuri first! Plis—Plishetsh—Russian Punk, you think you can beat me?”_

_What._

_“Well,” Victor says to himself as Yuri immediately launches into a loud, furious rant—which Katsuki easily ignores in favor of arranging, in his words, 'music that doesn't suck', “This...definitely isn't boring.”_

_There's a moment, later on, as they're dancing, when Katsuki catches Victor's eye and winks. “See?” he says with a smile. “Now we're having fun.”_

_Victor never quite recovers, but that's alright. He doesn't want to anyway._

**Author's Note:**

> this fic is so outside my comfort zone. i legit kind of hate it at this point but i need it to be done, so, uh, sorry?
> 
> originally supposed to be a five times fic, but that requires consistency and basic math skills so here we are


End file.
